Hijab woman gazing at Exposed belly dancer While Mo’Rockin’ plays To the crowd of stroller-pushing mothers And child-carrying fathers Assorted others of us Unencumbered with children. This Morocco is described as a “faraway land of traditional belly dancers, intricate Moroccan architecture and swirling mosaics made by native craftsmen.”[i] I wonder how traditional the belly dancer was. Whose tradition is most important In the world of plastic that is Disney? What is revealed along with the skin Of another Princess Jasmine Baring her belly? And does either of these women like to “Entertain Guests” (with a capital G) “With their sinuous movements” In the adjacent “Restaurant Marrakesh” Or does it really matter what they want? - guest (204.38.58.42) Dec 11, 2010
"QUICKER THAN A RAY OF LIGHT" (Madonna)
Zephyr in the sky at night I wonder
Do my tears of mourning sink beneath the sun?
She's got herself a universe gone quickly
For the call of thunder threatens everyone.
(borrowed from http://coverlandia.net/?p=15946)
------ She sits, tucked under her legs Are her dreams. He is close by, facing the Same direction, watching Another who streches, arches Back, and settles in to watch them. She strides forward, ducking Into her mind for a moment of Quiet solitude. Not long is she alone - He follows, and she is brought Back to reality. Her hand reaches across the fence Reaching toward a dropped Plastic bracelet. Her father uses a paper wand to Gather the bedazzled string For his girl. Nearby, a family walks in Tim, not realizing that their Feet strike the concrete In concert. A swooping Slide calls to the youngest Who relents to the rain-covered sidewalk. ------ Flowers pushing colors across Green branches Tangerine-tipped petals open To the sound of laughter across a manufactured lake. A white heron hunts geckos Between the stark, stiff columns of the Disney Yacht Club.
My fear is a white noise
Always there
Behind me, below me, beside me
In the strange glow of midnight
Walking below the pine trees
Waiting to catch up to me.
Vibrations of apprehension
Are deafening. They engulf me like a sheet,
Surrounding me with dread and palpitations.
My life is always buzzing, always humming,
And the fear is as constant as the
Beating of my heart.
"Waking the Reader /Breaking the Teacher’s Dream"
The beauty of the structure is immeasurable. Perfect lines. Strong support. Rich texture.
Each part fits exactly, so that the observer’s eye moves easily across the significant piece.
My mind tracks across the page, past lusciously languid language designed to evoke emotion,
Through thick description that serves to slow the reader down.
Lost in the journey of the flow, I am floating, bobbing between ideas and memories.
Then, I see it.
Unanticipated evil, lurking buried between a sumptuous clause and a lingering description that takes my mind away from the page. Alot.
Not a little. Alot.
Two words, written as one.
I go numb.
Quickly, I glance back to the comfort of the sentences before.
There is rhetorical prowess.
Control.
There is love for the language. Polish.
There is peace.
Is it murder if the author’s mistake kills my heretofore smooth and engaging reading experience?
Manslaughter – without intent but nevertheless maddening and malicious?
Exposed belly dancer
While Mo’Rockin’ plays
To the crowd of stroller-pushing mothers
And child-carrying fathers
Assorted others of us
Unencumbered with children.
This Morocco is described as a “faraway land of traditional belly dancers,
intricate Moroccan architecture and swirling mosaics
made by native craftsmen.”[i]
I wonder how traditional the belly dancer was.
Whose tradition is most important
In the world of plastic that is Disney?
What is revealed along with the skin
Of another Princess Jasmine
Baring her belly?
And does either of these women like to
“Entertain Guests” (with a capital G)
“With their sinuous movements”
In the adjacent “Restaurant Marrakesh”
Or does it really matter what they want?
-
"QUICKER THAN A RAY OF LIGHT" (Madonna)
Zephyr in the sky at night I wonder
Do my tears of mourning sink beneath the sun?
She's got herself a universe gone quickly
For the call of thunder threatens everyone.
(borrowed from http://coverlandia.net/?p=15946)
[i] http://disneyworld.disney.go.com/parks/epcot/attractions/morocco-pavilion/
------
She sits, tucked under her legs
Are her dreams.
He is close by, facing the
Same direction, watching
Another who streches, arches
Back, and settles in to watch them.
She strides forward, ducking
Into her mind for a moment of
Quiet solitude.
Not long is she alone -
He follows, and she is brought
Back to reality.
Her hand reaches across the fence
Reaching toward a dropped
Plastic bracelet.
Her father uses a paper wand to
Gather the bedazzled string
For his girl.
Nearby, a family walks in
Tim, not realizing that their
Feet strike the concrete
In concert. A swooping
Slide calls to the youngest
Who relents to the
rain-covered sidewalk.
------
Flowers pushing colors across
Green branches
Tangerine-tipped petals open
To the sound of laughter
across a manufactured lake.
A white heron hunts geckos
Between the stark, stiff
columns of the
Disney Yacht Club.
My fear is a white noise
Always there
Behind me, below me, beside me
In the strange glow of midnight
Walking below the pine trees
Waiting to catch up to me.
Vibrations of apprehension
Are deafening. They engulf me like a sheet,
Surrounding me with dread and palpitations.
My life is always buzzing, always humming,
And the fear is as constant as the
Beating of my heart.
"Waking the Reader /Breaking the Teacher’s Dream"
The beauty of the structure is immeasurable. Perfect lines. Strong support. Rich texture.
Each part fits exactly, so that the observer’s eye moves easily across the significant piece.
My mind tracks across the page, past lusciously languid language designed to evoke emotion,
Through thick description that serves to slow the reader down.
Lost in the journey of the flow, I am floating, bobbing between ideas and memories.
Then, I see it.
Unanticipated evil, lurking buried between a sumptuous clause and a lingering description that takes my mind away from the page.
Alot.
Not a little.
Alot.
Two words, written as one.
I go numb.
Quickly, I glance back to the comfort of the sentences before.
There is rhetorical prowess.
Control.
There is love for the language. Polish.
There is peace.
Is it murder if the author’s mistake kills my heretofore smooth and engaging reading experience?
Manslaughter – without intent but nevertheless maddening and malicious?